


all we can dream

by lesbianryuko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Presents, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22143535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianryuko/pseuds/lesbianryuko
Summary: Claude needs a gift for Byleth’s birthday, but he has no idea what to get him.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 157
Collections: Nagamas Gifts





	all we can dream

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO !!!! this was written for the FE gift exchange Nagamas on twitter and tumblr! i wrote this for @oomph833 (on twitter and tumblr)!! i hope you enjoy!!!! <3 title from "so i thought" by flyleaf (again lol)

“ _Hilda_!”

Hilda looks up from her food as Claude slides into the chair across from her. She raises an eyebrow in an expression of mild concern. “What?”

Claude rests both his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together. “Teach’s birthday is coming up, and I have _no_ idea what to get him.”

Hilda snorts and takes another bite of her fish. “ _That’s_ what’s so urgent? I thought we were under siege or something.”

“The only thing that will be under siege here is my conscience if I don’t get him something amazing,” Claude says with a frown.

Hilda shrugs. “It’s not like this is the first time you’ve ever given him a birthday gift. You got him that Golden Deer bracelet back when we were students, remember?”

“This is different,” Claude says. “That was a gift from a student to a teacher, just a little something for him to remember his class by. But now…” He trails off. He’s not sure how to explain it without completely exposing himself. “I just...want it to be more personal.”

Without blinking an eye, Hilda says, “Kiss him.”

Under different circumstances, Claude would have laughed and winked, coupled with a clever quip like “He wishes” or “I already have.” Not today, though, not now, not after five years of lying awake at night, wondering where Byleth was, when he’d come back, _if_ he’d come back. He just barely manages to cover his emotions with a cough, which causes Hilda to raise her eyebrow again, so high up that it completely disappears underneath her bangs.

“You’re joking,” he says, reaching over and popping a piece of fish into his mouth with his fingers to distract them both.

Hilda scowls and rolls her eyes. “Of _course_ I’m joking,” she says, but when their eyes meet, Claude can see the truth. He should know—it’s how they work, making jokes or faking tears to hide their feelings, but a sliver of reality always slips through, if one only knows where to look.

Hilda breaks eye contact by leaning way back in her chair, so far that Claude half-expects it to tip over, carrying her with it gracelessly to the floor. When that doesn’t happen, Hilda says, “How about, like, a ring or something?”

Claude sighs and rubs a hand across his face. Clearly this won’t be going anywhere productive. “It’s a birthday gift, Hilda, not a declaration of my undying love.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both.”

“You’re impossible.”

Hilda flashes a playful grin. “I try my best.” She lets the chair fall back into place. “But seriously, Claude, I think you know him better than almost anyone else here. You don’t need my help. You’ll come up with something.”

Claude chuckles sheepishly. “You give me too much credit.”

—

“You should make him something,” Ignatz suggests.

Claude watches as he moves his paintbrush fluidly across the page, slowly but surely turning colorful pigments into a perfect rendition of the landscape in front of them.

“Easy for you to say,” he says, not unkindly. “If I tried to draw Teach, he’d probably be insulted.”

“It doesn’t have to be a drawing or painting,” Ignatz says. “Besides, I don’t think he would. It’s the thought that counts, right? As long as you give it your best shot, I think anything you do would make him happy.”

Deep down, Claude knows that Ignatz is probably right, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what to make. Still, he thanks Ignatz for his time and heads off to find the next person on his list of potential advice-givers.

—

“It should be something practical. Something that Byleth’ll use,” Leonie says as she paces back and forth in the greenhouse. “Something he sees every day that makes him think of you.”

Claude leans his back against the wall. “Like what? A new weapon? He already has the Sword of the Creator. I don’t know if I can compete with that.”

“Then don’t,” Lysithea says without looking up from her book. She must have come here to study in relative peace while Leonie was on gardening duty. “There are plenty of other things you could give him that he’d make good use of. Boots. A satchel. An overcoat. An amulet that protects against ghosts.”

Claude tries not to laugh at that last suggestion. He can’t quite tell if she’s serious or not. Either way, at least now he has some more concrete ideas, even if he’s not sure how to incorporate them yet.

—

He finds Marianne and Raphael at the stables, where Marianne is taking care of the horses, while Raphael seems to be searching for some large bags of horse feed to use as weights. Claude decides to call them over and ask them both for their opinions at once.

“It’s gotta be sentimental,” Raphael says. “That’s my rule when I give gifts to my little sister. It’s gotta be something that’ll make her feel really soft and happy inside, like a stuffed bear.”

Claude nods slowly. He knows he wants the gift to mean something, but he’s not sure what sort of gift that could be.

He turns to Marianne, who has been waiting for Raphael to finish speaking. “Marianne?” he says with a tilt of his head. “What do you think?”

Marianne looks down at the ground, then back up at him. “Um...I agree with Raphael,” she says. “I think it should be something more personal. That way...you can show Byleth how you feel and what he means to you.”

The way she phrases it makes Claude briefly wonder if she _knows_. He was sure he’d hidden it well from most people, except for maybe Hilda.

He brushes the worry away in record time. “Thank you both,” he says, clearing his throat, and then he rushes out of the stables before either of them can inquire any further.

—

“You should take him out to tea,” Lorenz says as he, ironically, takes a sip from his teacup.

Claude snorts. “Of course _you’d_ say that.”

“I’m quite serious,” Lorenz replies, setting the teacup down. “He invites us to tea all the time, sometimes for our birthdays, but sometimes simply because he wishes to. The least we can do is return the favor from time to time.”

He raises an interesting point.

“It doesn’t have to be tea specifically,” Lorenz adds, “but taking him out somewhere and spending time with him in addition to a physical gift would be very thoughtful and meaningful, in my opinion.”

“Huh.” Truth be told, Claude had half-expected him to just suggest buying something fancy. That’s likely what he would’ve said five years ago, at least. But his advice, though different, isn’t necessarily wrong. Just unexpected.

“If I might ask,” Lorenz says, “why is this so important to you? You’ve been running around the monastery like a madman all day.”

Claude shrugs. “I just want Teach to know how grateful I am for all he’s done.”

The thing is that somewhere between meeting Byleth and now, it became about more than just gratitude for helping him get closer to achieving his goals. He’s not sure when or how, but he knows that what he feels for Byleth is something new and deep and lovely and terrifying. Claude still has dreams of watching him fall, still wakes up sweating at the thought of cradling a dying Byleth in his arms.

Sometimes, he lies awake and wonders what Byleth’s lips would feel like on his.

But none of that is important, or so he tells himself. What’s important right now is that he gives Byleth a gift that is even somewhat adequate, and finally he at least has some clue how to do it.

With his list mostly exhausted and an idea brewing in his mind, Claude rushes over to the dorms. He can only think of one person who could help him with this.

—

“ _Hilda_!”

Hilda sits up on her bed, where she’d been lying peacefully and doing seemingly nothing—not sleeping, just relaxing. “What is it _now_?”

Claude closes the door behind him. “I need you to teach me how to sew a whole overcoat.”

“You _what_?”

Quickly, Claude explains his idea. Hilda listens intently, her chin in her hands, her expression unreadable. When he’s finished, Hilda thinks for a long moment. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Oh, I know.”

—

A week later, Claude leads a blindfolded Byleth to a place farther up the mountains, a grassy area that overlooks a cliffside.

“I feel like the victim at the beginning of a murder mystery,” Byleth comments as Claude lightly pulls him by his arm farther and farther away from civilization.

Claude laughs a little. “You’re not, I swear.”

“Right, because a murderer would definitely say, ‘Oh, yes, you caught me, I’m about to murder you.’”

Claude snorts. “Well, in that case, yes, I _am_ a murderer, and I _am_ taking you away from Garreg Mach under the guise of a birthday present just to murder you and leave your body in the woods.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Byleth says, deadpan. Claude has to stop himself from bursting into laughter and losing his grip on Byleth’s arm.

After a few more minutes of banter, they reach the place where Claude set everything up. “Okay,” he says, letting go of Byleth. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

Instead of untying it, Byleth simply pushes the blindfold up off of his head. In front of them lies a large picnic blanket with a basket full of food, silverware, and a small tea set sitting neatly in the center. On one side of the blanket, folded neatly, is a black overcoat with a yellow ribbon tied around it.

“Claude…” Byleth says, seemingly in awe. Most of his faces are relatively similar, but Claude is fairly certain that this is the “pleasantly surprised” face. “What is this?”

“I told you,” Claude says, slowly making his way over to the blanket to pick up the coat. “A birthday present.”

Byleth takes a few tentative steps toward the blanket, as if afraid that he’s not allowed to touch it. “I just...didn’t expect all this.”

Claude smirks to cover his nervousness. “Well, then, you’re definitely not gonna expect this,” he says, holding the coat out to Byleth.

Curiously, Byleth takes the coat and unties the ribbon, unfolding the overcoat with increasing shock. When he holds it out to examine it, Claude swears he can see Byleth’s jaw drop just slightly.

The coat is mostly black, with long, large sleeves similar to Byleth’s signature overcoat. This one, however, has a medium-sized golden deer embroidered on the back—and on the inside of the coat, near the neckline, is a message embroidered in small, golden lettering: _Thanks for everything, Byleth. I think you put the very first crack in my walls. —Claude_

“I…” Byleth shakes his head in disbelief as he pores over every inch. “Did you make this?”

Claude shrugs. “Hilda helped. A lot. And the other members of Golden Deer gave me ideas. So it’s kind of from all of us. But...yes.”

Byleth smiles, soft but undeniably there. His eyes shine with something Claude can’t quite place. “This is amazing,” he says, holding the coat close to his chest. “I can’t thank you enough, Claude.”

It’s one of the most tender phrases Claude has ever heard come out of Byleth’s mouth.

Combined, Claude has incorporated everything the Golden Deer suggested. It’s practical, it’s handmade, it’s meaningful, they’re spending time together, and…

_A declaration of love._

Claude can feel himself blushing. “What can I say?” he says, sitting down on the blanket. “You...mean a lot to me.”

Byleth sits down across from him, carefully folding the coat and setting it down by his side. “I could say the same about you.”

“Then say it.” The words are out of Claude’s mouth before he can stop himself. That never happens. He never speaks without calculating everything beforehand, ensuring that it comes off perfectly natural despite being meticulously crafted.

Byleth chuckles. He must be able to tell. “You mean a lot to me, too, Claude.”

Surprisingly, it’s Byleth who leans in first. Perhaps it’s because, despite being incredibly different, he was never treated that way, whereas Claude is still paralyzed by the fear of not being enough, of not fitting in with anyone, of being branded a freak, an anomaly, for daring to exist. For months he’s wondered if exposing his true feelings would cause Byleth to think the same.

But here he is, surrounded by nature on a warm autumn day with a strange warmth in his chest that he can only describe as the feeling of being loved not for who he should be, not for who he pretends to be, but for who he is—a feeling that, until now, he’s only imagined in dreams.

Then again, Claude of all people should know that dreams are always closer to reality than you think.

And when the man he’s fallen in love with moves to kiss him, Claude finally rids himself of his inhibitions, if only for a moment, to bridge the gap between them.


End file.
